Addiction
by banal
Summary: After the events of OMWF and Tabula Rasa, Buffy finds herself in Willow's arms for support, not Spike's. In Chapter 3 Willow is momentarily swallowed by magic and rage when Spike appears at The Magic Box and, worst of all, she takes it out on Buffy.
1. Getting in the Habit

**AUTHOR: Megan**

**RATING: PG (it'll progress)**

**PAIRING: Buffy/Willow**

**DISCLAIMER: Not mine.**

**FEEDBACK: Please.**

**NOTES: I'm not sure how many chapters this is going to have so bear with me. Takes place after Tabula Rasa. Paragraphs encased in indicates flashbacks.**

* * *

** ADDICTION**

**1. Getting In The Habit**

It had, by far, been the worst day in any of her lives, despite the gaiety of the music and dancing. Xander had meant for a bit of fun, something to lift peoples' spirits. It worked something close to that... except spirits weren't lifted, just deeply unsettled.

Sweet was right. They had beaten him and banished him, she knew, but really, he had won. All the things that had been kept inside, every doubt, every pain, every secret, had bubbled to the surface, boiling over and drowning everyone.

Of course, it's not as if she hadn't seen it coming. The moment she woke, choking on claustrophobia and the smell of her own rotting flesh in her special box, Buffy knew this would be one of the hardest years yet. Maybe ever.

* * *

She picked her way between the headstones and sensed a familiar presence. Not a threatening one. Superficially, it was loving and kind but awkwardly so, as if it shouldn't be. It wasn't exactly obvious but the blond had been growing used to the feeling recently, she had set the precedent, so she found it to be quite agreeable. Yet underneath the agreeability lay something else, something darker. Something powerful. It had been growing for a while and Buffy recognised it without even thinking. It was evil.

But still she never made a move to hurt it, or get rid of it. She let it sit there and fester until it started to grow, daunting and threatening. She knew, but didn't care. And she ignored it, even though it was walking behind her this very minute, she made no move to drive it off.

Keeping pace she looked to the grass, trying to avoid looking at the one person she didn't need right then. After all the singing and the kissing she just didn't need this. Buffy knew it was just concern, but still, as it had been these gruelling months, she knew but didn't care.

"Willow you shouldn't be out here." Her tone of voice was preoccupied but deeply pained.

"We have to talk." Buffy stopped walking and sighed, turning to the redhead.

"About what?"

"We kissed, Buffy."

Red curls cascaded down her face accompanying the tears as she huddled against the furniture. Everything in her vision was blurred. Even the real reason for crying was unclear now, there were so many. Much like how the real reason Tara was leaving her was unclear now... there were so many. Tara knew of the magic, Tara knew of the addiction and she knew of the kiss.

Willow cringed every time she heard the opening of another drawer, or the unveiling of another coat hanger, she flinched every time she caught a muffled cry, from Tara or Dawn, but mostly she cried. She cried for herself and how things used to be. Willow knew Tara was right. She cried because the magic had her. She almost had everybody killed today. Including Buffy. But she needed it. And she cried because she wasn't strong enough to even think of giving up.

Yet, really, she knew she was crying because it was falling to pieces. The foundations had been so strong and the building was done quickly but efficiently so there had been no cause for concern before. Then she found a crack in it and one side gained a hole, and another and another, until, eventually, it came to it's current state, long past condemnation. All it would take now is a strong gust of wind and the relationship she had with Buffy would collapse.

"So?" It was almost impossible to stop her voice from betraying her. Almost impossible to make Willow think that she really didn't care, that it didn't matter in the slightest. That she was caught in the moment. Honestly, she didn't even know if she had managed. Willow was the one person who could read her.

At least, that's how it used to be.

"Oh, come on, Buffy. I know you. I know you better than anyone. Especially now. And I know that it can't not matter to you."

"Will, that was one of the strangest days of my life. I got caught up in it. In the music and the dancing. I can't even remember kissing you really. It was a spur of the moment thing."

She sat and stared vacantly at the back of the bar. It had gotten quite new age around here at the Bronze. The back wall was a silvery-grey metal, steel maybe. The reflections in it were a little blurry but that doesn't matter when the last thing in the world you want to do is look at yourself. Guess it's a bonus. And if you stare hard enough you can rearrange previous happenings to your liking, almost seeing it in the cold metallic light.

"That's all well and good but something like this can't be ignored. It happened for a reason. Maybe not love-"

"No not love." Buffy agreed quickly.

Willow caught herself and stopped in the midst of her last sentence. "Why?"

"What?" asked Buffy, confused.

"Why?" Willow's brow was furrowed and she was staring accusedly at the slayer. "Why couldn't it be love?"

"Because it's you." Buffy faltered a little, mentally kicking herself. That was the wrong thing to say and she really didn't want to head down the road she knew Willow would take. "And me."

"And just exactly what is wrong with me?"

* * *

She couldn't take the noises anymore, knowing what they meant. Couldn't stay and listen to Tara leave her. She had to get out. Willow grabbed a coat, ran down the stairs and exited into the night, heading for somewhere to drown the thoughts and make her forget about the day's events. She had the power to make herself forget, or even to delay time and rectify everything, make sure she did the spell right. Of course, judging by the mess she'd gotten herself into today, the dangers of doing some permanent damage to her mind lingered strongly in her thoughts. Guessing she'd have to just rely on alcohol this time, she headed over to the Bronze, still thinking about the kiss.

It was as if it satiated her need for the magic. It made her forget about it and, as much as she regretted it, she wanted it again.

It didn't even cross her mind that all she was doing with her addiction was replacing it with another.

* * *

"Are you saying you couldn't love me like that?"

"No, that's not what I meant, you know th-"

Willow cut her off sharply. "Ever think that you're the one with that problem?" Buffy stared at her best friend. "Ever think that maybe it's you that just can't love? Or just won't."

* * *

Buffy stood to make her way to the bathroom, trying desperately to dismiss what Willow had said before she had walked away and left her in the cemetery. Buffy knew she could love and remembered what the first slayer had told her and that she was right. She had the greatest capacity for love.

But Willow was right too, she wouldn't love. It was fear that held her back. Everyone she loved too dearly was put in danger, their life on the line. All love had taught her was that death exists and is more powerful than anything else.

It was the first time she had really felt alive since she had risen. To feel someone against her so close was all she wanted. Anyone. Willow had been there and it seemed like a good idea at the time. There really wasn't love behind the kiss, just need. Need must be safer than love.

Next thing, she was pulling away to look at Willow, to gauge her reaction, and begin kissing her again, clinging to her, with one sentence resonating through her head:

'Things are never going to be the same again.'


	2. Denial

**2. Denial**

She ambled down the road going over that last conversation again. As if he was that disillusioned. 'There are other ways...' Way to woo a girl. Leer and smirk like a dirty old man. 'You're a tease, y'know that, Slayer?' She shuddered a little. She didn't want a lovesick vampire. Look how well it ended last time.

But she needed his strength. It was the main thing that was keeping him alive. Granted he begrudgingly fought demons on her side, but, still, he did it. And he made parts of it a little easier. Even if he made the rest of it harder. Still, a girl can always use an ego booster. What else boosts your ego better than a secret admirer? Well, maybe not secret.

Throwing her keys on the table, she closed the door and peered around the house in search of life. Had to keep battling on. Keep on with the norm. Which means hassling tenants to wash the dishes.

"Willow?" She called from her spot by the door. If she didn't have to see her it may be best not to. Buffy really didn't want to touch on what happened at the Bronze at all.

Hearing no answer she headed up the stairs, and, bracing herself for any and all possible outcomes, she opened the witch's door.

"Will, I just came to-" she noticed another girl in the room and casually gave her a nod from her position at the door. "Oh, Tara, hey-" Woah. "Amy?" This was not an outcome she'd expected in the slightest.

"The whole school?" Amy said to Willow, who nodded. Buffy's stare drifted from Amy to Willow and back to Amy again. Apparently they'd been catching up. "By a giant snake thing." She stopped and considered this, nodding. "Okay, still adjusting." Not taking her eyes from the space of wall she was studying, she acknowledged the petite blond. "Hi Buffy."

Buffy, taken slightly aback offered her best greeting. "Hi." At a loss, she gave up searching for something intelligent to say. "How've you been?" Awkward much.

"Rat. You?"

"Dead."

"Oh."

An awkward silence hung in the air. No-one is really sure what's appropriate and inappropriate when it comes to conversations swimming in bitterness, however well disguised said bitterness is. Usually, it's hard to hear it when someone is almost in complete shock, but Buffy knew bitterness well. When you use most of your vocal chords in such a way as to hide it, you catch the moment, the semi-quasi-second, when they slip up.

After what seemed like an age and a half, Amy piped up with a reason to get out of the room. "Do you have any cookies?"

Back on familiar grounds, at last. "Uh, yeah, w-what kind?"

"Any kind. Not cheese." Willow had to restrain herself from laughing.

"Um, sure, in the, the kitchen." She exited the room and headed towards the kitchen with Amy at her heels, leaving Willow in her room. Well, at least it avoided the conversation she didn't want to have. She reached into the cupboard and fished out the cookies for Amy who graciously accepted and backed out into the living room and parked herself on the couch, ready to do a lot of TV watching. Buffy found herself staring out the dishes, half wondering, half wishing that maybe if she wanted hard enough, wanted with all her strength, they'd wash themselves. But knowing it wasn't gonna happen she turned on the hot tap and set to work.

------------------------------------

Willow watched the detailed bedspread, silently asking it to tell her what to do. This whole Amy-rat-Amy thing had put a few things in perspective. All the things that had happened while she was a rat, if you put yourself in her shoes, were a bit mind blowing. Even without the empathy, things were a bit mind blowing, and the witch found herself thinking of the old days where power wasn't an issue, and competition only came to light on sports days.

Willow felt the power stir and groaned. It called to her, commanded her to the window, and she obeyed. Peering through the curtains, she watched as the peroxide nightmare sparked up another cigarette and felt herself grin with the power. Power she had over him. She had what he wanted. She had the slayer. A satisfied smirk crossed her features as she watched him, hopelessly waiting for unrequited love, if that's what it really was, to become a mutual thing. She caught his eye and he stared up at the witch's window, saying nothing, as she continued to smirk. Buffy was her outlet of frustration. If anyone got to-

Then she caught herself and flinched from the window. What was she thinking? This is Buffy. Best friend, confidant, partner in crime. Fighting. Crime fighting. Slayer, protector. Fought the forces of evil with vehemence and faith, and grace, and balance and stealth, air sweeping over her lithe body as she twisted behind the headstones in the darkness, as Willow held her firmly against the wall of a crypt, running her hands along the subtle curves, pressing against her, rubbing her, fingers seeking-

She caught herself again. What is WRONG with me? Sighing, she picked her way to the bathroom quietly.

-----------------------------------------------

Shortly after finishing the plates, she put them away and went to check on Amy who hadn't moved.

"Hey." Amy quickly turned the TV to mute, listening to Buffy. "How you doin'? Need anything?"

"No. Thanks." She grinned and held the plate up a little. "Good cookies."

Buffy tried to smile. She really did. It was getting harder and harder these days, as if it ached. She felt like a fraud when she smiled, but knew it was what her friends needed to see. Her mind wandered over Willow again. To be honest, the slayer had no idea where this turn in the friendship would end up. There was no doubt that they were still friends. They would always be friends. They'd made a pact. It was silly and childish to think about but, on some primal level, it made sense. Honestly, Buffy wasn't sure how she would deal with things without Willow. She'd thought about it often, even back when they'd first met.

Amy gazed softly at Buffy before speaking. "Sorry about your Mom."

"Thanks." Her voice cracked bit. She wasn't over it. But then, it's not something you really ever get over. Ever.

"It's crazy, all the things that've happened since I went away."

Buffy snickered a little. "No kidding."

"Snyder got eaten by a snake... high school got destroyed..."

"Oh. Gatorade has a new flavour. Blue."

"See. Head spinning." She sighed. "People getting frozen... Willow's dating girls... and did you hear about Tom and Nicole?!"

Buffy's brow furrowed a little. "People getting frozen?" Another new thing.

Great.

Amy nodded and turned the volume back up, watching as a reporter signed off from the museum.

"Weird," Amy observed. Nope, thought Buffy, you're not wrong. Weird was definitely the way things were going at the moment.

She grabbed a coat and hat and headed out into the cold.

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A thick silence blanketed the Magic Box, an active silence. It danced around the room eliciting a knot of uncomfort within each of the Scoobies after the brief but awakening conversation. Buffy cautiously eyed the others whilst trying to maintain the facade of researching. Anya was, as always, as delicate in her accusations as an elephant in a china shop. But she was right.

Humans are fickle things. All of her friends had their secrets, their quirks and foibles. They stored emotions in themselves, feared death and craved love. Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles. The Core of the Scoobies, the circle, and somehow Anya had become an intrinsic part of that yet remained on the periphery. Maybe it was due to her 1000 years as a demon past but Buffy couldn't help but wonder if was the honesty. Never had she met anyone as blatantly honest as the ex-demon. The slayer found herself wondering where she, Willow and Xander had gone wrong. Considering how long they had been friends and how much they had been through together, still, they pushed each other away refusing to admit they needed help.

Pride. The deadliest of the sins.

The slayer shivered. The box had grown dark around her as she mused. Time just didn't seem to matter a great deal recently. Days bled together, the sun burned and she found herself longing for the night and for the dark, something to hide in. A tingle of anticipation stirred inside the blond. It was twighlight and she could almost hear the new ones turning in their graves. The fight erased the rest of the world, gave her something to focus on. It made things pass a little faster.

The glow of Willow's table lamp caught her eye, bringing her out of her own mind. She noticed Xander and Anya had gone and furrowed her brow, trying to remember if she had even acknowledged them.

"Will?"

Willow froze. She'd been waiting for this since Xander had left with Anya. Clearly Buffy wasn't going to say anything in front of them, especially him. The fingers of her left hand were cold and she brought them up to her mouth warming them with her breath, hoping Buffy wouldn't say her name again. She had considered doing a forget spell, it would be easy just to say a few words and have the kiss forgotten by both, but she can't sew.

"Willow?"

It wasn't even that big of a deal anyway. So they kissed. Friends kiss all the time. Natural. Show of affection and appreciation... Willow sighed inwardly and felt her eyelids grow heavy with guilt. Appreciation for what? Ripping her out of heaven? Making everyone forget themselves? It didn't feel natural either. It was a strange mixture of ice and fire. Cold at first, imperfect, until it grew and burned them both. Willow unconsciously licked her lips, not knowing whether she wished for blisters or not. And where was the affection? When they kissed, she didn't even feel that Buffy was her friend. Where had they lost it?

She didn't take her eyes from the book. "Yeah, Buff?" Here it comes...

"When did Xander and Anya leave?"

A great wave of relief passed over the redhead. She almost smiled. "About an hour ago. Said something about being tired. Going to bed."

Buffy watched as Willow, with her nose still stuck in the book, rose and crossed the room to fetch another. She seemed to float. Willow, despite being clumsy as hell sometimes, retained a goddess-like elegance that Buffy just didn't have. You could hear the heavy-footed Buffy when she entered a room. The slayer traced Willow's body with her eyes again. She'd been doing it a lot lately and you'd think that one would get bored of it, but no. The red hair, the subtle curves, large, green eyes… the innocent-but-not aura. Buffy had her own private Audrey Hepburn.

A flare between her legs prompted Buffy to leap to her feet.

"I'm gonna do some training before patrol." Willow only nodded and sat back at the table, still reading and cross-referencing, glad that she was finally alone.

-------

Buffy crossed the back room to the punch bag and began winding a bandage round her right hand, lost in thought again.

"You bloody women. All the same." Buffy leapt around at the sound of glass crashing to the concrete floor. A bottle by the sound of the drunkard's voice.

"What now, Spike?" Not even irritated she waited for him to leave. Or start hitting on her. At least it'll give her a fight.

"You lead a guy on and knock him down!" He staggered towards her. "But now it's my turn. Cut right to the chase, luv." He brought the back of his fist down hard on her cheek and she found herself on the floor. Spike grinned through his drunken haze. "Now I do the knocking down." He leapt on her and she swiftly kicked him off but made no move to follow it. She sat on the floor, huddled against the wall in shock.

"How did you...?" She trailed off.

He stood over her and growled through his smile. "Oh the pain! The pain!... is gone." He grabbed her by the neck, pulling her up the wall, going for the neck and she fended him off, kneeing him between the legs, kicking him away. She saw him sprawled on the floor and her fists clenched automatically, anger slowly creeping into her system.

"What happened to the chip?" She spat the words out. "Where. Is. it?" She raised her arm, ready to pummel him.

Spike sprung up again, juicing himself, pissed and stupid. "It's still right up here, luv." He said through laughter, gesturing to his head. "Nothing wrong with it. YOU," he pointed, his finger inches from her face, "are the problem."

Buffy froze. Her arm lowered. Her fists became lax.

Spike leered over her, staring into her eyes. "You came back wrong."

Buffy slid down the wall, not even caring about the biting pain at her neck, and closed her eyes.


	3. Finding Your Dealer

**3. Finding Your Dealer**

"GET OFF HER!!"

Spike whirled around and caught the sight of a black-eyed, red-haired messenger from Hell. She could smell the blood dripping from his teeth, taste it nearly. Buffy's blood. She could feel the slayer slipping away slowly. Plenty of time to make with business.

She caught him with the power, grasping at the air, tightening her grip on him. The magic had woken and she could feel it running through her veins, from her head to her toes to the tips of her fingers. With each thought, each tiny muttered word, she could control something, anything. Or nothing. A nothing like Spike. With a wave of her hand she threw him across the room against the far wall, creating a dent from the amount of force. Hate fuelled the rage, rage fuelled the power, power fuelled the witch. She advanced towards him and towered over his broken form.

"Tut tut tut." She grinned menacingly at him. He tried to bite back at her but coughed at the blood welling in his throat. "You honestly think that if you turn her she'll want you? Like she could ever want you." She spoke matter of factly. It would never happen. "She keeps you for your strength." She sniggered. "If you call THAT strength. I barely touched you with my power and look at you. Can't move, can't speak."

"She needs me."

Willow let a laugh bellow from her stomach. "What for?! She resents you, Spike. You're the puppy that she never wanted. The puppy that follows her around, waiting for just a shred of affection. News flash - not gonna happen!" She held him in a steel gaze. "Ever."

"If she loves me or not doesn't matter. She needs me for," he smirked, "relief."

The fire in Willow grew with the innuendo and she sent him crashing to the ceiling, binding him to the cold, white wall above her. She giggled a little to herself.

"Why, Spike," she questioned, still giggling a little, "would she want you when she has me?"

"You're a bloody woman."

Willow rolled her eyes. "I know that."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, luv," he struggled with his words, his energy waning, "Buffy doesn't swing that way."

"So, why is it that she hasn't kissed you and has me?" She asked in mock confusion and waited as his face fell. "Twice."

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Over at the wall, a petite blond began to come around, waking with the commotion. The scene playing before her was startling to say the least. She thought she had been relieved. Maybe even hoped. Yet here she was. Human, alive and in pain, with blood trickling down her neck . So cold.

Spike. He tried to have her. Change her. Now he was... on the ceiling? She shook her head at the sight. Bad idea. She waited for her head to stop spinning and eyes to focus before she tried to figure out what was going on.

Honestly though, she could have guessed anyway. Willow. Willow was beating the hell out of Spike with the magics. Carefully, Buffy rose to her feet, making sure the wall was at her back, using it to hold herself up and she caught her breath.

"Willow." The word was barely louder than a whisper but the witch heard it.

"Buffy. Stay there." She didn't even turn to face the slayer but kept her eyes on Spike.

"Willow." The slayer repeated. This time the redhead turned to face her. "Don't," she pleaded.

"Buffy, are you insane?! I'm only doing what should have been done years ago. This is the way it should have been." Her words were cold and vengeful.

"Willow we need him. We need him to fight." Buffy didn't catch the smirk at the ceiling. She didn't take her eyes from her best friend. Willow hadn't been like this since the Glory days.

"Like hell we do! Buffy, look at him!" She turned her attention back to Spike, craving for him to hear these words, speaking them to him. "He's pathetic. Is this what you call fighting? Why him when you have to me to fight for you?" She felt a smile play on her lips. "He's almost dust and I'm just warming up."

"Willow, let him down."

"What?! Buffy, you know I'm right. You have to know. And if you don't I'll make you know." Willow turned her full attention to the slayer now.

A feeling of disbelief swept over Buffy. "Was that a threat?" She inched a little closer to the witch, challenging her.

"Depends how you look at it. You can hope it was a threat or you can know it was a promise." She drew in the power of the room, not knowingly letting Spike free, feeding the magic she could taste. She stood facing off Buffy for a minute, basking in the energy racing through her body, readying herself to fight.

Suddenly, her back felt like it had been hit by a wall. Spike tackled her to the ground in a drunk fury and ran in the other direction, narrowly missing a bolt of solidified hate as he ran out of the back door into the sunlight.

Cursing herself for missing, Willow clambered to her feet, hoping that the sun burned him slowly and painfully.

Buffy, having regained a little energy, rushed at Willow holding her to the wall.

"Why?"

Willow shrugged. "I think the question is: Why not?"

"Because we can use him." Her grip became less tight. "God, Willow, where are you?"

"What?!"

"You're lost in the magic, Will. We need to get you help. It'll kill you."

"Don't give me that self-righteous shit Buffy! You're just pissed off because now... I'm the one with the power." She felt a hard back-handed punch knock her jaw almost breaking it and her ears rang.

"Yeah?" Buffy raised her brow, knowing the redhead felt that. Willow laughed and sharply returned Buffy's favour, knocking the slayer back.

"Yeah." She stated.

Buffy ran back at her and they began to fight, Buffy not wondering where Willow's strength had emerged from, Willow not caring if she was wondering. Buffy continuously threw punches at the witch who easily blocked them, but caught her out with a sweep to the legs, sending her to the ground. She loomed over Willow, in tears.

"Why couldn't you just leave me where I was?!" She pulled Willow to her feet and pushed her against the wall again, trying so hard to see through her watery eyes. "Why couldn't you have just let him kill me?! Let him take me?!" She cried.

Willow straightened under Buffy's grip. "Because you're mine." She rushed Buffy's lips and spun them around. Buffy's condition didn't interest her, nor did her own, nor did the rest of the room, the rest of the world. It was her turn to decide when the kissing would be and how far it would go. Besides, Buffy was complying fine.

Their tongues battled against each other, pulses raced. The blood from Buffy's stomach rushed to her centre, flaring her sex, as butterflies invaded it. She could feel every part of Willow against her. Wrapping her arms around the taller girl, she continued to kiss her with force. It was harsh and powerful, as were the fingers running along the slayer's body, searching for that special place. Willow wasn't thinking, Buffy knew, she was just acting on impulse and left over juice. It made Buffy wonder, even in this position, how similar the power that fuels Willow is to her own. They both come from a dark place and live in a dark world. And now, it was as if their energy melded together like their bodies, craving more contact. More.

Buffy's breathing became too heavy for her to think as her knees began to give way. The feel of Willow's fingers inside her and on her clit made it impossible to do anything but feel the orgasm that ripped it's way through her.

Then the world faded to black.


End file.
